Tortured Soul…. Not this Lifetime….

I was told that someone was sorry for me because I was tortured…??? REALLY???

Lets look at the psychology behind that thought process….

People who are dealing with clinical depression are now tortured???

People who are dealing with PTSD are now tortured???

People who are dealing with TBI are now tortured???

REALLY???

When you make this about yourself, my story gets lost in translation….

I did not nor will I ever need to sell my soul to religion to be forgiven for imagined wrongs….

I did not beat myself up…

I did not betray myself….

I did not give myself TBI….

I did not give myself PTSD….

I did give myself the power to live and fight for survival and I did it depending upon myself and not your fictitious god…

If I was a tortured soul, I would be obese, a drug addict, an alcoholic or a habitual criminal…

I am none of the above…

I laugh every day, I cry every day… I wake up thankful my body and heart are still working because I put the work into it the day before by meditating, exercising and keeping my life full of the things I want it full of, with positive light from this planet… not your man-made god…

I wake up every day an accept that I can not change what is and that some answers may never be available and that telling MY STORY is about me, no one else…

I don’t assume to know anyone else’s life or feelings or thought process, because psychic I am not nor believe in…

You want to make assumptions about my life instead of owning what you did or your participation… then look in the mirror for that tortured soul… 

My soul is just fine…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Author: maggi9454

My earliest memory is before the age of 2... by the time I was 13, I had no childhood memories... No holidays, no birthdays... On 11/5/17 a shooter in Texas changed all that... It triggered my memories from my 13th year... The Air Force covered it up an it happened in Big Springs, Texas 1967... Domestic violence, PTSD, TBI and I too served in the Air Force 10 years later... This is my story to remember what was stolen...